


The Revolution Of Jonathan Sims

by Urbenmyth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Eyepocalypse, Fear Domains, Gen, General triggers for season five, Happy, Happy Ending, Revolution, just some nice stuff, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urbenmyth/pseuds/Urbenmyth
Summary: We all know that this podcast will end with tragedy and misery and death. That this is a horror tragedy podcast.But fuck it.Here's another way everything might end.  Sometimes, things do get better!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	The Revolution Of Jonathan Sims

Jon took a deep breath. Here, at the pinnacle of creation, he could see all. He could inflict whatever truth he wanted on the world.

This new world? It was just a nightmare. The entities weren’t real, not really. Just fear. Just the baggage.

He could do this.

It was switching from watched to watcher. Just on a massive scale.

It was showing a terrible truth. Terrible for the Entities, yes, but still terrible.

It was exposing someone’s secret. Someones's secret that might destroy them.

He could do this.

Looking over the world, he began to chant.

* * *

RESTLESS WATCHED

* * *

Alexei looks up at the scaly creature before him. Its red eyes, its sharp tusks, its...wait. No.

No.

It’s just a man. No older than he is. No less scared. Still armed, could still kill him, but…

Alexei lowered his weapon. After a tense pause, So did the other man.

“Er...Charlie”

“Alexei”

“Have you seen the…”

“Man with the flower”

A grim nod. The two turned, and their fellow soldiers began to turn behind them.

Time to bring the fight to their real enemy.

* * *

TURN YOUR GAZE FROM YOUR NIGHTMARES

* * *

There were mutterings in the village.

Maybe it wasn’t the outsiders. Maybe it was just a sickness. Maybe they didn’t need to kill anyone.

Maybe they could take off their robes.

Maybe they could take off their masks.

Maybe the village council was just burning people.

Maybe the sickness was inside them all along.

Maybe…

Maybe it was time for a good, old fashioned angry mob.

* * *

FROM YOUR TERROR

* * *

They run and grasp and lament

“How long will this happen?”

They clutch and tear and sob.

“Until the merry go round stops”

Until...

They looked without eyes. Could they…

Hands tore off panels.Underneath, wires. Underneath, gears

Underneath, _names_.

REDACTED and N/A and UNKNOWN reach into the machine.

And they began to tear

* * *

FROM YOUR HORRORS

* * *

Sam gave up.

He’d never reach the surface. Why bother trying?

The light grew slightly, as if to lead him up. But why bother?

Slowly, he turned. And in the brighter light…

was that….

a _coffin_?

He hated it on sight. It meant him harm. It was of this place.

He knew that

When Sam was not a worm, he could never fight the DWP. The Tories. The 1%. They were out of reach.

But the coffin was just at the end of the tunnel.

Fulled not by desperation but by rage, Sam began to dig.

* * *

AND TURN YOUR GAZE UPWARDS

* * *

Coroner’s report.

I have never seen my own vines before.

I do not quite know how to feel about it.

Outside,the inhabitants of my domain are breaking free from their paths.

I do not know how you did this, but I assume this is your doing, Archivist?

The crowds descend upon me, and I can see that powers will not save me.

Congratulations, Archivist.

The old Oliver would have been glad of this. Of so many escaping their fate.

I, however, know only that my end has come. As it always would.

Farewell, archivist.

Report Ends.

* * *

TURN IT AT YOUR TORMENTORS

* * *

Sabrina ran down the halls of the burning building. “Help! Someone help!”

Her neighbor- Alix?- ran out. “Close the doors! It will stop the fire spreading!”

More voices

“Cover your mouths! It’ll stop the smoke!”

“Get on the floor, smoke and heat rises!”

“I saw this way is clear!”

“Grab my hand! The exit’s this way!”

“We’re going to escape!”

And Sabrina found herself in the cool, clear air outside. Wrapping her coat around her face, she ran back in to help the others.

* * *

AT THOSE WHO RULE YOU

* * *

“What’s your name?”

“I...I don’t know! I don’t….”

“I….I think….I’m Brian”

“Brian...h...hello, Brian…I’m so...”

“Alone?”

“Yes… but not…”

“Not anymore.”

“No. Not anymore.”

* * *

AT THOSE WHO DECEIVE YOU

* * *

The vines wrapped in nets of tendons and bone. A mass of festering skin and swollen organs

Two vines stopped. One grew eyes,bulging and bloodshot, and looked at the other. Its dripping fluids and twitching limbs.

It smiled with dozens of mouths.

“You’re beautiful.”

And slowly, vines and flowers returned to finger and hands.

“You’re so beautiful”

* * *

AT THOSE WHO FEED ON YOU

* * *

FRANCIS: No.

THE SPIDER: No, Francis? Oh, we both know that isn’t how this works. We both know you want this.

FRANCIS: I said, no.

_ FRANCIS grabs the paraphernalia and hurls it to the floor. Spiders scuttle across the floor. _

THE SPIDER: I see. And what do you hope to accomplish with this little tantrum? The show will go on.

_ FRANCIS grabs the hook in their arm and pulls it down. THE SPIDER stumbles. _

THE SPIDER: What are you...how are you doing this? This isn’t in the script! This isn’t...

FRANCIS: Pause for laughter, asshole.

_ FRANCIS continues to pull. _

* * *

AND SEE THE TRUTH

* * *

See Jack. See Jack Run.

See Jack Stop.

See Jack remember.

Yes! From the science book he read! Take two rocks and bang them together! That’s how they made fire in cavemen times!

And there must be rocks in the park!

See Jack hit the rocks, as the monsters approach. See Jack fumble. See Jack whimper.

See Jack smile. See the monsters run.

See the bright light of fire light up Night Street.

Jack remembers where Kaitlyin lives! Are the monsters after her too?

See Jack lift a burning stick.

See Jack Run.

* * *

SEE THAT THEY ARE NOTHING

* * *

Edward looks down at the town below him. They’re going to crush it. They’re going to crush it!

He needs to stop

He almost doesn’t manage it, holding his limbs against the mass. But the message spreads.In whispers and screams. “Stop!”

Just a finger first. Then a hand. Then an arm.

And slowly, all so slowly, it grinds to a halt.

The man flies up, demands to know what is happening. His grin is fading. And he is so very small. So very finite.

So easy to crush.

As one, they move once more.

* * *

THEY ARE JUST YOUR FEARS

* * *

Object: A festering couch.

It's so covered in stains it's hard to tell what it once was. Fluids leak from it, maybe the only fluids in the Anthropocene Era. Sharp metal reaches up through it, rendering it useless to sit on. 

Worthless thing.

Except...if you...if  _ I  _ clean it? If I push down the metal?

There must be tools in the junkpiles

It can be repaired.

Maybe it can all be repaired?

Leah closed her book, and began to rummage through the piles. Far away, she heard movement. Not a mutant or an inheritor.

For the first time in years, Leah heard something human.

* * *

JUST YOUR WORRIES

* * *

The prey cowered, pleading. “I’m your friend! Please! I’ve always been on your side!”

And the predators...stopped.

Yes. It was. 

This was pack.

They snarled with rage. Howling and growling. Someone had turned them  _ against their pack. _

Who would dare?

They turned. Someone in the woods, watching. Their look of feral delight turning to fear

_ You. _

The figure ran

Behind, feet pound silent.

* * *

JUST YOUR NIGHTMARES

* * *

Oh, what is this, you little brat? Another tantrum?

Let me guess, you didn’t think you had enough attention, so you acted out?Started ignoring me? Childish thing.

No wonder your mother never loved you. No wonder your friends resent being around you. No wonder your girlfriend cheats with other men. Who can blame her, next to you?

Ugly failure of a thing.

Are you listening to me?

You’re a disgusting slob. No-one loves you.

Listen to me.

You really are fat. You really are alone. You really are better off dead.

Listen to me!

_ Why aren’t you listening to me!? _

* * *

THEY ARE NOT REAL

* * *

Tyler reached the front of the queue. The man in the pig mask looked up, expectantly.

He should, he knew, write his name. Go into the queue. And be judged worthless again. And again. And again

Instead, he punched the man in the face. It felt like hitting a steak, and the man staggered back.

He turned around, panicked. What had he done? What had he... Most of the crowd looked impassive.

Some didn’t.

More and more walked from the queues, fists clenched. If one of them could stand up to them...

Tyler grinned as tens, then hundreds, then thousands massed behind him.

Who’s useless now?

* * *

THEY CANNOT HURT YOU

* * *

Derek looked at the hot metal, the burning photographs of happier times.

And he thought about his father.

How he’d killed him when the abuse got too much.

How he’d put the fear of god in every punk who showed him disrespect.

How he’d fought with every pig who tried to take him in until the last breath.

How had he got so fucking weak?

Fuck it! Fuck the overseer! He was a dangerous motherfucker. He wasn’t going to cower here! He was gonna show “Sands” what happens to anyone who tries to fuck with Derek Banfield!

He grabbed the sharpest, heaviest tool, ignoring the heat. The overseer would be on his way. Good.

“This is for you, Colin” he muttered, raising the spade as the door opened.

* * *

THEY ARE ONLY INSIDE YOUR HEAD

* * *

You stand there.

“She was…”

Memories flashback.

“She was….”

All the pain, the fear, the impotent rage, the twisted love. All of it.

“She was a monster.”

A gasp runs through the crowd. You grab the candle holder.

“Yeah! I said it! A monster! An abuser! She ruined my life! She ruined so many lives! And I hope she burns!”

You hurl the candles at the corpse, laughing as it burns. You’ve never felt so free.

The director looks impassive as, getting closer, you hear the flapping of angel wings. But the worst  _ you’ve _ ever faced is now dead and ash.

So come on then. Let’s see what they’ve got. They’re all dead. Someone just needs to bury them.

And spit on the grave.

* * *

SO RISE AGAINST THEM

* * *

Patient: Jeremy W.

Date and place of birth: 4th August 1977, North Manchester General Hospital

Date and place of last contentment: 8th July 2013, sunrise, on Arthur’s Seat hilltop, Edinburgh

Complaint: Generalized pain and creeping ennui

Surgical procedures thus far: 916.

Prognosis: Concerning

Notes: Jeremy has managed to steal a scalpel and stab his ordinary doctor to death. This should not be possible.

He has managed to rouse 132 patients of St Bleedingtons, who have taken a wing of the hospital as their own, murdering multiple orderlies and doctors.

I can hear pounding on my office door.

I am afraid, Inspector. Help me.

* * *

SEE THEIR HUBRIS

* * *

The doctor and the professor looked at each other with utter disgust and hatred. The professor spoke first.

“As much as it pains me to say it, it seems...likely...that neither of us can make it out here alone”

“The evidence points that way.” The doctor snarled through gritted teeth. It wasn’t an admission, after all, phrased like that.

“We must compare notes, all of us.” He said it as if suggesting licking a toilet, but they did.

More men and women entered, and seething with pride they formed a hypothesis. 

A theory. 

A conclusion.

They knew the way out. The _actual_ way out.

Still bickering over who would get the credit, they began to walk.

* * *

AND BRING THEM LOW

* * *

Jordan sobbed.

He didn’t want to be with the ants.

He didn’t want to feed on terror.

He...he ruled this place.

He was an exterminator.

He thought, and he concentrated. If this was a nightmare…

Around him, he heard screaming. It was simple. He knew this. Just the right chemicals, where to spray, where the central hive would be….

He’d done this every day of his working life. Ignore the screams, the pleas, the sick fear. This was just like any other job. 

He opened his eyes, surrounded by dead ants.

He found someone buried under the mass, and he began to pull

* * *

TEAR APART THEIR PRISONS

* * *

Tina sobbed, curled in her cold cell, when she heard the noise. Tapping. On the pipe.

She...she’d learnt Morse code! A while ago, for fun! She'd almost forgotten a life before the jail.

She listened desperately.

CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?

Frantic, she tapped back

YES

THANK GOD. I HAVE A PLAN.

OK

I’VE FIGURED OUT THEIR SCHEDULES. I KNOW WHEN THEY’LL BE SPREAD THIN. WHEN I GIVE THE SIGNAL? WE RIOT.

Tina picked up the metal tray. It wasn’t the best weapon. But it would have to do.

THREE. TWO. ONE.

The door creaked open.

GO.

* * *

TEAR APART YOUR CHAINS

* * *

The man sobbed, reaching out through the mud and grass. No-one was there. No-one…

He touched someone. A woman. She looked up, tears streaking down her face.

Inside him, a cold tower told him to shun her.

Inside her, empty ice told her to keep her distance.

Instead, they embraced, sobbing and laughing. They didn’t speak, for a long time.

But they swore the rain had finally started to ease.

* * *

KNOW THIS IS JUST A NIGHTMARE.

* * *

“I am trying to work. This is not…”

THUD

Carmen slammed the table leg into her roommate’s face. God, she’d wanted to do that for a  _ long _ time.

Running out, laughing like she never had before, not even bothering to get dressed, she smashed down a drone. Metal and blood splattered the street.

“Yeah? You like that? No more hiding! Here I am!”

She swung wildly at cameras, at therapists, at judgmental crowds.

“Let me give you a fucking show!”

They watched here, and she finally realized. _She didn’t give a shit_. Let them see what they like.

Laughing hysterically, she swung at another drone.

* * *

AND WAKE UP

* * *

The doors opened, and the minister walked in, smiling. The commotion behind him didn’t attract attention. Just assistants, presumably. Servants. The help.

Then they looked up to see the packed hall of starving, desperate people. The minister stood.

“I swore myself in, on the platform that I would be one of you. That I would work for you. That I would serve your interests.”

The crowd entered the room. The politicians desperately tried to escape the seats they were nailed into, or the ones they had melded with. To no avail. They were held too tight

“I failed. For so long I simply upheld corruption and oppression. I cannot make up for what I’ve done. But I can promise that things will be different now.”

Desperately, the politicians called for help, security, anyone. But all their minions were in the crowd. Those pay cuts...they seemed so sensible at the time.

“And my first new decision! By order of Her Majesty’s Government... _ fucking shank the bastards _ !”

With cheers and woops, the mob descended.

* * *

OR, AS SOMEONE VERY CLOSE TO ME MIGHT PUT IT

* * *

Rosie thought about all the times she’d done nothing. All the harm she’d allowed. All the evil she’d permitted.

The guilt was...no.

No, she wouldn’t wallow in guilt anymore.

She could make things better. She would make things better.

She looked at the mob around the tower, hammering on the walls. She smiled. Not a fixed smile, not a vapid grin.

She _smiled_ , and pressed the intercom.

“Mr Magnus? There’s some people here to see you.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

She just opened the door.

* * *

OI! CEASELESS WATCHER! YOU DICKHEAD! GET DOWN HERE SO WE CAN KICK YOUR ASS!

* * *


End file.
